


Holy to me

by BirchWrites



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Character Study, M/M, dream's not human and that's ok, heavily implied dnf but i'm not tagging it bc it's not the focus, i have a comma addiction and i'm making that everyone's problem, kinda angst but kinda not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:28:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27879886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BirchWrites/pseuds/BirchWrites
Summary: It's a difficult thing, to be loved by a god
Relationships: Clay | Dream/Floris | Fundy
Comments: 9
Kudos: 318





	Holy to me

**Author's Note:**

> Obligatory "characters only, don't write this stuff about creators who don't like it" disclaimer

Gods don’t think the same way as players do. Their emotions, their reasoning, their sense of right and wrong - they’re as far removed from a player’s thoughts as a player’s are from a mob’s. 

Fundy knows this, but sometimes it’s all too easy to forget. When Dream curls up at his side to watch a movie, or pauses to drop off flowers and a kiss before hurrying on to other things, Fundy doesn’t see a being that could end his life with a snap of his fingers; he sees his fiance, goofy and clever and sweet, who laughs like a tea kettle and sometimes forgets to take off his mask before trying to kiss Fundy. He sees the man he loves, and is loved by in return.

At other times, though, it is very, very obvious that Dream is not a person but a force of chaos, barely contained in a roughly human shape. Today was one of those times, and as he sits on top of the new obsidian wall encircling L’Manberg with Dream’s threats still ringing in his ears, Fundy thinks that he’s maybe let himself get a little bit too comfortable, been a little bit too wilfully ignorant about exactly who - what - he’s been courting. 

It’s not that he thinks Dream doesn’t love him after this incident, or anything like that.  _ I don’t give a fuck about anything  _ was a bit of a punch to the chest in the moment, he’s not going to lie, but it was also said in anger by the same person who’d spent half the morning a few days earlier draped over Fundy’s lap like a sleepy cat, complaining loudly whenever Fundy tried to get up to actually do something useful with his day, so he’ll take it with a grain of salt. 

He knows that Dream loves him, and maybe that’s part of what’s worrying him here. 

He’s always gotten the quieter side of that love; the big, earth shattering demonstrations of affection belong to George, and that suits Fundy just fine. He doesn’t need a crown and he’s had quite enough of seeing the world burn at his feet. He’s more than happy with what he has: movie dates, flowers in the morning, kisses broken apart by laughter, and under it all the knowledge of unspoken, bone-deep devotion. 

But today was an unsettling reminder that being loved by a god can also be a terrifying thing, that Dream won’t hesitate to slaughter an entire city in retaliation for a slight against someone he cares about, however small that slight might be, and Fundy isn’t sure if he likes thinking about what might happen if Dream ever does this on  _ his  _ behalf.

He wonders what George thinks about it, if he knows the scope of the power he indirectly commands just by having Dream’s heart. Fundy imagines it must feel a little like standing in the eye of a hurricane, surrounded by destruction but inexplicably safe, protected by the raging winds from anything that might approach. Or maybe George is too used to it to notice, as happily unaware as Fundy has been. Maybe it’s just a fact of life for him: the sky is blue, snow is cold, and Dream would gleefully burn down the world to make him smile.

A sudden shift in the air, intangible but unmistakable as always, is the only warning he gets before Dream speaks behind him. “You’re not supposed to be up here.”

Fundy’s far too familiar with his fiance’s habit of seemingly materializing out of nowhere to be startled by it anymore. He just leans back on his hands, tilting his head to look at Dream upside down. “Are you going to make me leave?” 

“Hm … no, I  _ guess  _ you can stay.” Dream lowers himself down to sit on the edge of the wall next to Fundy, entirely unbothered by the drop beneath his feet. “What are you doing up here?”

“Just thinking.” Drumming his heels absentmindedly against the smooth stone, Fundy turns his gaze back to the black ring around the city. “It’s weird, having walls around L’Manberg again.”

“I would have thought it’d be nostalgic for you,” Dream says with a smile in his voice.

Fundy shrugs, uncertain. L’Manberg’s original walls had been there almost his whole life; some of his earliest memories involve clinging to his father’s hand as he stared wide-eyed at the construction, only half finished and already the biggest thing he’d ever seen. Those walls had contained his entire world for years, until finally he grew old enough and the war grew desperate enough that Wilbur could no longer justify keeping Fundy safe behind them while the others fought. For a long time after they came down, looking at the horizon felt like missing a step in the dark, like looking at the sky and finding the moon gone from its perch. 

But these new walls, for all that they fill the same physical spot, are a poor replacement for the ones in his memory. They’re shorter, more roughly built, missing the yellow stripes that Fundy had counted on a million boring afternoons. The main similarity lies in the man sitting next to him, threatening to kill anyone who tries to step outside them.  _ That,  _ at least, is familiar, although Fundy’s uninclined to call it nostalgic.

Instead of trying to put all of that into words, he asks, “Do you really intend to follow through on what you said earlier?”

“I’m hoping it won’t come to that. Tubbo’s a smart kid, he’ll make the right choice,” Dream says, which is a dodge if Fundy’s ever heard one. 

“But if it does?” he presses.

“Then, yes, I’ll do what needs to be done.” 

“Even to me? I live here too, you know; I’d be trapped with everyone else.”

Dream draws back a little. “Fundy, you know I wouldn’t hurt you. You’d be able to leave, if you wanted. There’s plenty of room at my place.”

“No.” He doesn’t even have to think about it. “I gave up everything for this country. I fought for it,  _ died  _ for it. My father died hating me because of what I did to get L’Manberg back from Schlatt. I’m staying here, and I’m going to support Tubbo no matter what he chooses to do.”

_ And,  _ whispers the part of his mind that’s never really stopped thinking like a spy,  _ imagine how useful it’ll be when it comes to a fight, to have someone on L’Manberg’s side who Dream would hesitate to raise his axe against.  _

He expects Dream to argue more, and feels more than a little wrong-footed when he just nods. “If that’s what you want, I won’t stop you.” 

Of course, he hadn’t been too upset when they ended up on opposite sides of the last conflict with Schlatt, either. Sometimes, Fundy feels almost like all of their struggles are little more than a game to Dream, and never more so than when he does things like this, treating Fundy being in an enemy faction with the exact same lack of worry as he would Fundy declaring that he doesn’t feel like hanging out today. Like it’s completely inconsequential, and has no bearing on their relationship at all.

Sometimes, trying to understand godly thought processes makes Fundy’s head hurt.

“You know I’ll help them fight back,” he says. “If this really does happen.”

Dream sounds far too fond when he replies, “I know. I wouldn’t expect anything else.”

Sighing, Fundy lets himself sway sideways until he’s leaning against his fiance, who automatically puts an arm around him to steady him. “We’re really doing this again, huh.”

“Looks like it,” Dream says, sympathetic but not the slightest bit regretful. 

Fundy closes his eyes, rubbing at his forehead in a failed attempt at chasing away the tension that’s been steadily building there over the last few days. 

He’s so  _ tired.  _ He just wants a little bit of time for himself - just a few months without a conflict, so he can process everything that happened without being distracted waiting for the next attack, the next betrayal.

Without warning, Fundy’s hat gets plucked off his head and set aside, but before he can protest he feels gentle fingers start to run through his hair, and his words die off into a contented hum. 

“You were thinking too loudly,” Dream scolds, without any real bite.

“Well, sorry, this whole situation is  _ kind  _ of stressful,” Fundy retorts. It’s hard to sound properly snippy when he’s busy melting into a puddle from having his hair petted, but he gives it his best shot. For his efforts, he earns a disapproving tug on his hair, too soft to actually hurt but hard enough to make him roll his eyes and stop talking.

“You can worry about it later, alright? There’s nothing either of us can do today, so we’re relaxing now.”

Fundy snorts. “Do I get a choice about that?”

“Nope. As your fiance, I’m ordering you to chill out.”

“Of course, dear,” he simpers, exaggeratedly deferential, and smiles when he feels Dream’s shoulders shake in a quiet laugh.

He supposes it won’t do any harm to set his worrying aside, just for a few minutes. He can think about what to do about the wall and Tommy’s impending exile later. For now, he’ll pretend that his friends aren’t once again facing down the prospect of war with the vengeful god currently stroking his hair, that the new life he’s building for himself in L’Manberg isn’t held together with gum and prayers. 

He’ll hold onto that comfortable ignorance again, just for a little while. Right now, Dream isn’t the enemy, or a force of nature; he’s Fundy’s fiance, and that’s all he chooses to see.

**Author's Note:**

> It's never really elaborated on but Fundy's chill with whatever Dream and George have going on on their side btw. Dream has two hands and in this house we support polyam relationships


End file.
